


Less Harmful Parallels

by AnHeiressofaSOLDIER



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Modern Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnHeiressofaSOLDIER/pseuds/AnHeiressofaSOLDIER
Summary: A modern day Christine trying to heal from everything that happened with Erik, with a little help from Raoul.





	

It was Raoul who ended up convincing Christine that she should maybe try becoming a speech therapist, if she was looking for something to do after everything that had happened at the opera house.  
  
This was because she always told her father's stories with such diction (and had had to do the same thing with her singing), and so they both ended up thinking that this could be a new calling for her.  
  
And for the most part, it had been.

Christine enjoyed spending time with the children she taught, as well as the knowledge that she was helping to make things easier for them.

There was just one thing...  
  
"Christine?" Raoul asked now, as he knocked on the open door of his wife's classroom. It was currently after school hours.

And only after Christine nodded her head that he could come in, did he carry on with: "You didn't come home… I just assumed there was a staff meeting you forgot to mention, so I brought you something to eat, love. But the janitor I ran into outside told me there wasn’t one, and that you were sitting in here. Is everything alright?”

Christine sighed at the book she was holding in her hands, while she sat down in her favorite chair in her classroom.  
  
Christine knew that she was being ridiculous. And this was why her dearest Raoul was now looking at her with the slight concern in his eyes, as he handed her the orange chicken he’d brought her.  
  
Had he thought that Erik had kidnapped her again? Christine wondered. She honestly wouldn't have blamed him if he did.  
  
Sensing that she needed to fill her husband in—so that he wouldn't have a panic attack for her sake—Christine motioned for him to take a seat beside her (but he did not; instead, he knelt at her feet once more) and handed him the ocean-themed children's novel she'd been holding.

"I don't know if you remember this, Raoul, but when we were kids I thought that 'op' was a word. I think I was combining 'up' with the first part of 'ocean', because that's the direction you want to move in if you're sinking beneath the surface of water, but I...

“I’d forgotten that I'd ever even done that, until I gave a student this book today and she wondered if the 'word' 'op' was in it, too.

“It should make me happy, to know that I’m not the only one who has ever made that mistake. But instead, all I can think is ‘op... opera’, and that I still think about that and him far too much."  
  
Raoul squeezed Christine’s hand in his own now, and she couldn’t have been happier for it—as she leaned her head back and allowed herself to relax for just a moment.

This wasn’t unlike when Raoul had held both of her hands during their secret engagement, and had made her promise after promise: all things he’d been able to keep.

So, if he’d been able to spirit her away to safety back then, and keep her that way, why should she be fearing her memories now?  
  
"Christine," Raoul murmured with absolute kindness in his voice, as his blue eyes bore into her own and perhaps saw the little girl who had once chased goblins with him so long ago. "If you want me to, I can pay someone to make 'op' a real word, so that you don't have to connect it to ‘opera’ anymore, you know.”

Christine swatted Raoul’s arm playfully, as she savored a bite of the food he’d brought her.

The sauce on it reminded her of when Erik had brought her breads to eat the day after her kidnapping. And while it was one of Christine’s worst memories, she didn’t cringe in connecting the thought with her current well-being anymore.

Maybe she was beginning to heal ever so slightly, with the help of one viscount de Chagny.

“But in all seriousness,” Raoul said, as he pressed his arm even closer to Christine (as if he was saying she could abuse it, or hold onto it for dear life, to battle her demons if she needed to). “You can try to dodge all things about music and hurt yourself that way, Little Lotte… or you can acknowledge everything about what happened and try to overcome the obstacle. Knowing you, I think I know which one you'll choose."

And as the former diva threw her arms around Raoul's shoulders with a hearty laugh, and kissed his cheek, she could only agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short Raoulstine fluff piece that I wrote by texting it to myself on my phone.
> 
> It’s inspired by my RL. I was in speech therapy as a child. And I, too, thought that “op” was a word, for the reasons that Christine did in this story.
> 
> But even more than that… I can’t believe I’m admitting this now (I’ve never admitted it to anyone), but one time I knew that my speech therapy was cancelled for the day because the teacher was going to be gone.
> 
> …But my main teacher didn’t know that, so I went to the speech therapy room for a little bit (while no one was there), and stayed there some, as the lessons in my actual classroom had begun to overwhelm me.
> 
> I also took this one book (because every time I went there, I got a new book I had to try and read aloud, so I knew I had to take one on this day or it would be suspicious) about the ocean (that I thought “op” was a word in), that I always saw when I went there but sadly hadn’t been assigned to read yet.
> 
> You know, it’s a miracle neither teacher ever found out that I did this (and I feel really bad about it now, but I was a five-year-old stupid child; what am I supposed to do?), because I didn’t know how to tell time. So, I came back to my main classroom WAY too early, but my homeroom teacher didn’t notice it to put two-and-two-together, amazingly enough.
> 
> And when I saw my speech therapist for real the next week, I dropped the book I’d borrowed to the floor (from where I’d picked it up the previous week) when she wasn’t looking.
> 
> But she must have somewhat seen me do that, because she asked, “Was that in your bag?” To which I lied about, and she then brushed it off.
> 
> …I was a terrible rebel, guys. Wow. I’m not proud of my awful five-year-old self at all.
> 
> But ANYWAY, I hope you guys enjoyed this piece of Christine healing, and that it wasn’t too sweet. Thanks for reading!


End file.
